protector
by krimrose
Summary: Because Korra would want Bolin to see her at her best. And Mako would love her even at her worst. —MakoKorra. Canon.


**entitled:** protector  
**summary:** Because Korra would want Bolin to see her at her best. And Mako would love her even at her worst. —MakoKorra. Canon. Post 'Endgame.'  
**rating:** T  
**disclaimer:** I do not own.

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When Mako opened the door, disgruntled and muttering who-the-hell-is-here-at-_two_-_in_-_the_-_freak' in_-_morning_, he saw her—soaking wet and staring at the ground, her fist clenched at her sides and she was trembling.

"… _Korra_?" Mako reached out to touch her, to pull her inside—to pull her to _him_—but Korra recoiled.

Mako didn't let it bother him.

"Hey," his voice was soft, "what's wrong?"

"I need a place to stay," Korra admitted, not looking at him. Her dark hair was untied, falling in damp waves to her mid-back. Her head lowered, eyes concentrated on the floor, allowed her umber locks to form a curtain that concealed her face. "Just for tonight."

Her reply was evasive, avoiding the question.

"Sure," Mako didn't need an answer though, "Come in." He just needed Korra to be okay.

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It's been two weeks since the big battle against Amon. Everyone's been recovering—rebuilding from what was left in the ruin.

Mako and Korra have started dating recently. It's been pretty smooth sailing so far.

But this would be Korra's first time in his and Bolin's new apartment, and Mako couldn't help but wish that the circumstances were different.

A lot different.

Mako returned to the living room with two towels. Korra was sitting on the couch; the drenched state of her clothes, the dripping of her sopping wet hair, soaked the couch cushion. Korra didn't seem to notice.

She hardly noticed _him_ till he had kneeled down in front of her. For a split second, her vast blue eyes glanced at him warily. Then they fell back down to the floor.

Korra had _never_ been this way before.

Not to him.

Dismissing the questions piling in his mind, Mako wrapped one towel around her shoulders.

She flinched.

He felt his chest tighten.

Then, carefully, Mako draped the second towel over Korra's sodden hair. It was by accident that his fingers brushed against her forehead, but the reaction was immediate.

Korra jerked away and like time had slowed, Mako watched as her glazed eyes flickered an electric blue, before he felt the gust of air that pushed him back, slamming him against the far wall.

When he glanced up from the floor, Korra looked horrified.

Mako was still trying to process what the hell had happened, when Bolin bounded into the living room. "_What in the name of_—"

"I should go," Korra blurted, standing up, the towels slipping off her. "I—"

"_Sit_," Mako commanded. He rose from the ground, _that's going to leave a bruise_, and turned to a half-awake, completely confused and pretty terrified Bolin. "Go back to bed, Bo. It's nothing," Mako assured in a firm voice that had an underlying _no-further-questions_.

Bolin nodded. The startled earthbender walked nervously back to his room, throwing a few wary glances over his shoulder at the couple who had made a dent in the wall.

The landowner wasn't going to like that.

Once he heard the click of Bolin's bedroom door, Mako stepped towards Korra. "_Explain_." Because something was _very_ wrong.

Korra didn't always have the best temper, sometimes she got nervous when he touched her, but that attack had nothing to do with anger.

That attack was sparked by fear.

_So what the hell was going on_?

Korra swiftly moved towards the door, which given that she had blown Mako in that general direction, he easily blocked. "Korra—"

"_Let me leave_," she warned, her voice cold and uneven. Her fist were no longer clenched at her sides, but positioned in such a way that hinted that she would readily bend her way out of there if that's what the situation called for.

He couldn't believe this.

_Why couldn't she talk to him_?

"Sure," Mako replied, his eyes narrowed, his expression dark. "Just barge in in the middle of the night, worry me to death, air-bend me into the wall, and leave, _still as soaked and miserable as when you came in, _back _into that spiteful storm_." He paused. "But before you go," Mako's eyes flickered dangerously, "_fight me_." Because he wasn't just going to let her walk out on him.

Not when she's like this.

Never if he could help it.

Mako readied his stance. "Make sure to hit me where it hurts," Mako stated bitterly, "Right _here_," and he clutched the left side of his chest, where he felt his heart was breaking.

Because for her not to trust him, it was the worst kind of pain.

Korra—

—broke down, falling to her knees, her face buried in her trembling hands.

And through the thick sobs and turmoil of her heart, he made out three words.

_Save me, Mako_.

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It had been nightmares, she admitted.

Nightmares about Amon, about losing Mako and Bolin and Asami, about losing Tenzin and his family, about losing everything Avatar Aang and his friends had worked so hard to build—all the sacrifices, becoming dust in the hands of an immature, naïve, and _weak_ seventeen-year-old girl—but mostly, most frighteningly and selfishly and pathetically, about losing her bending, losing _herself_—because to Korra, bending was the essence of her entire being.

It was her entire world.

And for her to have experienced that lost—even for a short time—it made her empty. It shocked her into fear. It broke her, consumed her, tore her apart and she was so scared to lose it all again.

To lose everyone, to lose her identity, to lose the destiny that she cherished so much in her heart.

Because more than anything, Korra wanted to be the Avatar.

She wanted to be able to stand amongst her past lives—as fearless and unwavering as they were.

And to think that she almost lost _everything_.

To think that it could have ended with _her_.

How would she be able to live with that guilt?

The nightmares were a reminder that she could have lost it all. That she could _still_ lose it all.

Because every night she does. Her bending gone. Just a blink, just a touch, and everything was lost. Did she try to fight? Was it that easy to strip her bare?

Who is she?

What can she do?

The Avatar cycle.

Did it end with her?

_Weak, pathetic, useless, despicable_.

She was a mistake.

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Somehow, Mako had managed to get her to fall asleep. This was after the battles of you-need-to-change-into-something-dry and Korra-just-sleep-in-my-bed-I'll-take-the-couch.

Mako had only settled onto the couch, had only closed his eyes for fifteen minutes, when he heard it—piercing and ugly and tormented.

These were her nightmares.

And oh how she screamed.

This was why Korra couldn't sleep at the Air Temple.

So where had she been sleeping until now? And would she have continued to sleep there if there hadn't been a storm?

There was loud crashing and Bolin fumbled out of his bedroom, alarmed. "Is that—"

"_Back_, Bo." Because Bolin could cheer up girls crying over love with hand-picked daisies, terrible jokes, and warm smiles, but not this—not Korra being torn apart by nightmares. Bolin would not be able to handle seeing her like this.

He would be in so much pain.

"Go _back_," Mako growled lowly.

Because Korra would want Bolin to see her at her best. And Mako would love her even at her worst.

"She'll be okay."

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Mako had never seen her in so much pain.

It was true then, that physical pain was nothing compared to the pain brought on by your worst fears.

Mako tried to calm her, but when he touched her, she screamed even louder, jerking away from the contact while still being tormented by the nightmares that imprisoned her in the dream state.

Reluctantly, Mako shook her awake.

As Korra came too, and Mako repeated, "Korra, it's me, it's Mako, I'm here. I'm right here. It's Mako, Korra, it's me," he felt the tears.

How long has she been like this?

Why hadn't he _noticed_?

She had looked a bit tired during the week, but he had assumed it was because she was still recovering.

_Where did she go every night_?

The sheets, the covers, the pillows, they were all damp and Mako realized it was from the perspiration rolling off her skin mixed with the tears falling from her eyes.

Her thick sobs nearly killed him.

What should he do? She was trembling all over, the cold sweat coming off in icy sheets.

He needed to get her some place warm, some place that will drive the nightmares away.

Was there even such a place?

Mako lifted Korra into his arms and carried her into the bathroom. He steadied her to a standing position and stood with her in the shower. Reaching behind her, he turned on the water, letting the steady stream, gradually warming, fall onto them. The water soaked through their clothes and they stood silently in the darkness.

Mako never let go of her.

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Eventually, Korra broke the silence with her sneezing and Mako realized he's probably given her pneumonia.

Hopefully, it would just be a cold.

Mako left the bathroom and made a dripping pathway into his bedroom where he changed and grabbed clothes for Korra.

After having changed the sheets, the pillow covers, and digging up the comforter that had been an apartment-warming gift from Pema, Mako waited outside the bathroom door as Korra changed a second time that very early morning.

It was around four now.

As soon as Korra opened the door of the bathroom, Mako found her hand, and began pulling her back into his room, "Mako, wait—"

Once in the bedroom, Mako lifted her onto the bed, ignoring her bewildered expression. He pulled the comforter up, slipped in beside her, "Hey, _wait_—" and let the comforter fall easily over them, coating them in warmth.

"Wait—_Mako_." The cold unevenness had disappeared from her voice. They laid in the darkness, Korra shifting uncomfortably as it became apparent that Mako was going to be staying. Right there, beside her, his face mere inches from hers. "I don't think—"

"Sleep," Mako ordered in his stern-yet-soft way. "Don't worry. _I won't touch you_," he assured.

"But—"

"_Sleep_," he stated firmly.

Korra sighed, her warm breath hitting his face. "Yeah," she mumbled reluctantly, "Okay."

Because to argue with him was meaningless.

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Mako waited as Korra drifted off to sleep.

When she began to toss and turn, the screams threatening to rise from her throat, Mako pulled her into his embrace, pressing her against his body, whispering, "It's Mako. I'm here. It's me, Korra."

And she calmed, without him having to wake her.

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So he had lied.

And he would lie again if that meant he could protect her.

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_fin_.

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**endnote:** Because Korra would not be okay, even if she got her bending back.

There are always repercussions.


End file.
